


March 1934

by orithe, Roga



Series: Three Marches [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen, Jewish Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 20:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10199261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orithe/pseuds/orithe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/pseuds/Roga
Summary: This is what Rebecca Barnes remembers from the year she turned seven.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxelementalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxelementalist/gifts).



> Fic by roga, art by [orithe](http://orithe.tumblr.com/).

The living room is warm and stuffy and filled with the scent of fresh rolls from the bakery downstairs, and Rebecca’s stomach rumbles. Steve glances up at her for a second, before returning his eyes to the mural. She knows he’s too nice to be laughing _at_ her, but he sure does look amused.

“You know what, pass me one of those berry colors over there,” he says, pointing at the bowls of deep reds and purples he’d mixed earlier, resting at the edge of his workspace where Rebecca is carefully guarding them from the cat. “I think I’m going to add another layer of toppings to the Queen’s cake, hmm?”

Rebecca’s stomach rumbles again. “Steeeeeve,” she says. Rebecca isn’t allowed to eat anything until dinner, because Mama was mad she gave the last pieces of Bucky’s birthday cake to the cat instead of to the neighbors’ children. Rebecca still doesn’t think she did anything wrong. The cake tasted like cat food anyway, and the Goldman children didn’t deserve that, and it’s not like the cat threw up all over the carpet or anything. Only on the bathroom floor.

She chooses a shade of red that looks like cranberry sauce and pushes it at Steve anyway. Steve’s helping paint the banquet scene for this year’s Purimspiel even though he hardly remembers the story (“That’s not true!” he always says. “It’s about a girl who stood up to bullies and saved her people, like a true hero,” which doesn’t even _mention_ the perfumes and the _parades_ and the secret diary and the hanging and honestly Steve is so _boring_ , but he does paint nice.)

“Come on, Cakekiller,” he says, and Rebecca tries not to giggle but it’s kind of funny. “What else are the royals going to feast on?”

“Steak,” she decides after a moment of thought. “And grapes. And—and corn dogs.”

Steve draws them all with gusto, and then adds ice cream and chocolate chip cookies at her request. He’s dotting the cookies with brown flecks when the front door croaks open, and Rebecca can hear the muffled thud of boots that can only belong to her brother. 

“Bucky, come look!” she yells. She wants to run and drag him back so he can see the mural _right now_ but Bucky’s always teaching her about standing guard while Steve’s painting and she doesn’t want to leave and come back to blue paw prints all over their ancient Persian palace.

Bucky steps into the room, wearing his brown leather jacket that’s still a little wet with rain, and takes in the view. “Well, if it ain’t the master and the apprentice,” he says approvingly.

“Hey, who you calling an apprentice,” Steve says, and Bucky shares an eyeroll with Rebecca. Steve has the dumbest jokes.

Bucky ignores him. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, and bends down to ruffle Rebecca’s hair, messing up her curls. “Don’t tell Mama,” he murmurs, and slips her a soft roll of bread from his pocket, still warm from the oven downstairs. Rebecca feels her eyes widen, pressing it to her nose and breathing it in. It smells so delicious she almost never wants to eat it.

“Thanks, Bucky,” she whispers, and quickly takes a bit. The roll feels like it’s melting on her tongue, it’s so good. For a second she considers stopping for a moment and offering some to Steve, but Bucky always gives Steve extras of everything anyway.

She’s right; a moment later Bucky crouches next to Steve and gets another two rolls out of his pocket. “One for your ma too, and don’t say no. You’re doing all this work for free anyhow.”

“It’s not work,” Steve protests, “it’s for church. Or, you know,” he flushes, “whatever.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, ‘whatever’. Hey, this looks good. Nice job—” he says, and then he starts laughing. 

“What?” Rebecca demands. Steve drew a goofy face on one of the cakes but it wasn’t _that_ funny.

Bucky points to the mural, still laughing. “Is that a cat licking its own puke?”

Rebecca gasps. Bucky’s right - under the banquet table is a tiny black cat next to a suspicious puddle. “STEVE!” she exclaims.

Steve grins. “He’s part of the story now! He’s going to be the most famous cat in all of Shushu.”

“Shu _shan_ ,” she corrects.

“Yeah, that.”

She considers it. It’s a little true. No one else’s cat is going to hang in front of the whole shul to see.

On the day of Purim, Rebecca dresses all in white when they go to the synagogue, holding a scepter with a star on top and a big paper crown. Daisy from her class is also dressed up as Queen Esther, and also Alice, and Shirley, and, okay, a lot of other girls. 

Steve’s mural is hanging proudly up front, and when the show starts, Alan Jones plays the mean stupid King, eating all of Steve’s fancy food as he demands for his wife to arrive.

When the King calls for Haman, all of the children shake their noisemakers and boo out loud. He comes out, clad in black and wearing a mask, and when he jumps at the crowd Mary Beth and Shirley shriek and run away.

But Rebecca doesn’t scream like the other kids. Behind the mask, he’s just her big brother, and she knows there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Steve nudges her with his elbow, sharing a small smile. It’s the best Purim she’s had yet.


End file.
